


Fervor and Resolution

by layaandchloe



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha Frank, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Billy, canon divergence - the Punisher, cursing, typical Alpha/ Omega consent issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layaandchloe/pseuds/layaandchloe
Summary: Russo pressed his throat against the knife, scarlet drops swelling where metal met flesh.“Either kill me or fuck me, Frank.”Divergence in canon where Frank brings Russo home, only to find he's in Heat.





	1. Chapter 1

Billy let out a loose, humorless laugh as Frank entered the room. His walk was the first thing Billy noticed. The bastard had a confident, cocky strut that had drawn women to him like flies and had made enemies blood run cold. Frank stopped before him, towering above him like a God about to deliver judgement. The fluorescent lights casting shadows over his harsh face, fury radiated off him, polluting the atmosphere around them. The hellish skull painted over his vest pulled his head down. How definitive Frank was in his judgement.   
  
The tight bonds around his wrists burned as he pulled for the nth time since he had woken up. The pain helped, however pointless it might be, he knew Frank would have taken no chances with his bondage. The firm zip ties around his wrists and ankles were evident of how fruitless an escape would be. His legs pushed open as his long legs were tied to the chair.   
  
He could feel sweat running down his spine, like he was overheating despite the wintery temperatures that oozed in through the thin walls.   
Billy wanted to squirm, wanted to rub away the itch as Frank's alpha scent washed over him. But he forced himself still, steadily returning the alpha's dark gaze. Practice from years of forcing his instincts down. He supposed he should consider himself lucky Frank hadn't killed him.   
  
"Frank" his voice sounded hoarse in the empty room. Too loud yet too quiet.   
He watched Frank's dark eyes narrow on him, the bruises on the alphas cheekbones seeming more prominent than ever. A blackish purple hue, the color of a wilting ranunculus.   
  
_Screw it_   
  
"Why am I here Franky, just fucking kill me already."   
  
He deserved it. He had watched Rawlins beat the shit out of Frank without moving a fucking muscle. He had stood there, motionless, as Rawlins fists had beat into Kastle until blood stained his shirt crimson. He had stood by when Frank's family had been butchered.   
  
Frank took another step forward, his leg brushing against Billy's knee.   
  
He could feel his body reacting to the simple touch. He had gone too long without his suppressants and now he was paying the price. His cock had gone rock hard and he felt uncomfortably hot. It took every ounce of effort not to move, grinding against his pants in an attempt to get more friction against his aching cock.   
  
Frank inhaled deeply, standing in the space between Billy's legs.   
  
"Why'd you do it, Billy?" Frank finally ground out, his voice husky with fury and pain, oblivious as always.   
He wanted to scream. It was _everything_ . How Frank had left him to be fucked over by Rawlins. How Frank had left him, like everyone had left him. His own mother had thrown him away. He had thought he had finally found someone that would keep him. But no, Frank and thrown him away the first chance he'd had and Rawlins had wanted someone to punish.   
  
He glared at Frank,   
"You fucking left me Frank. What did you fucking expect. Do you know what Rawlins did to me?"   
  
He hissed out, fully aware he was losing any semblance of control. Frank had told him he would protect him. Between course moments of peace in the bloody battlefield, Frank had whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Told him that he would always be there for him, that they were brothers and then he had left.   
  
Billy had never let being an omega hinder him. Never backed down as one of those high and mighty alphas had told him he was garbage. Or when someone told him he was nothing but sewer rat with a pretty face. Christ, he didn't even know who his own father was. He never let any of that stop him, he had built up walls and burned anyone who got in his way.   
  
But Frank, he had thought Frank had seen through all of that. All of his posturing crap, his cocky attitude, worst of all, Billy had trusted Frank. Billy had let Frank in, let him worm into his heart through kind words and that obnoxiously charismatic personality.   
  
Frank said nothing, staring blankly at him. Then he suddenly snapped, as if jerked out of a reverie, he snarled and leaned forward. His hand whipped forward, yanking Billy's head back by his hair, exposing his throat.   
"You think that justifies what you did?"   
Billy's jaw twitched, trying to ignore the urge to lean into Frank's hand.   
  
"I didn't have a choice Frank." He hated saying it, admitting it.   
"Rawlins bonded with me." He loathed saying his name. Loathed what he had done to him, loathed what he had made him into to: another submissive omega to be beaten and ordered around.   
  
Russo knew Frank had no idea what to say, he almost wanted to laugh at the twister of emotions that ran over his alphas face. Confusion, comprehension, and pity - that all accumulated into blazing fury.   
  
His body was reacting to Frank and his emotions. His clothes felt restrictedly tight, his body overheating. With every breath he inhaled more of the alphas beguiling scent. A mix of gunpowder, violence, and dominance. He tried not to writhe against the bonds, wanting to get closer to Frank. He and Frank belonged together. Kastle had already been with Maria when they had met, bonded with her, loved her. But Russo knew the truth. That he and Frank were mates. Two sides of the same coin.   
  
It had been a gradual descent into love. Years of close quarters, sleeping bunk to bunk, playing cards on a dirty concrete floor, boozy laughing over crass jokes, gradual.   
Billy distinctly remembered being on leave one night, under the body of some inconsequential alpha he had picked up at a bar. His head had been shoved into a pillow as the alpha had pounded into him.   
  
He had found himself imaging it was Frank instead. Planting sloppy kisses on his back and groaning into his neck.   
  
Billy had never cum so quickly in his life.   
  
Outside of his reveries, Frank paced violently before him.   
  
"Why didn't you fucking tell me Russo!"   
  
He could feel the heat escalate inside of him, burning into a feverish delirium. Even Billy could smell the sickly sweet scent of his own arousal and clearly Frank could too by the way he froze, his eyes honing into Billy's.   
"You in heat, Russo?"   
A nod and a strangled noise was all the confirmation Frank got.   
Frank had yet to see him in heat. He had always been so careful. Meticulously keeping track of his pills like bullets in a warzone.   
He moaned against the bonds, grinding for more friction.   
"Frank, please, just fuck me."

“ _Chris_ t Russo,” Frank swore under his breath, his dark eyes latching onto Russo’s writhing body. The hormones were affecting both of them now.

Billy was aware of the sound a pocket knife being flicked open, then the sensation of the his limbs being cut free.

 

He lunged, tackling Frank to the ground.

 

Frank had him on his back in an instance, the knife digging into the soft flesh of his throat. Frank loomed above him, his leg placed between Russo’s thighs and his free arm pressing him into the cold concrete ground. The omega couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips.

  
Russo pressed his throat against the knife, scarlet drops swelling at where metal met flesh.

 

“Either kill me or fuck me.”

 

Frank stared at him, his eyes flickering to Russo’s mouth, then to the knife. In the space of a second, he knocked Russo unconscious: _Frank had never been good with ultimatums_. 


	2. The Heat

Frank's footsteps resonated through the empty warehouse floor as he paced the length of the feculent hallway for the near hundredth time. Pale rays of morning light crept in through the broken glass windows on his right,  miraculously charging in past the discarded hunks of cement and rusted out metal.  
  
His ribs hurt. Christ, his whole fucking body ached but he continued his one man march. He was out of options.  
The alternative was breaking down the flimsy door he and put between himself and Billy. A door not even thick enough to collar the aphrodisiac smell of Russo's heat, calling to him like a sailor to a siren. Every muscle went tense as a breathy moan sounded. It wasn't loud but Frank's alpha senses were so heightened that he could have heard a gun cocked from the floor down.  
  
A muscle in his jaw feathered as he tilted his head toward the noise, having frozen mid-routine. He had left Russo partly unbound, after a tortuous hour of wrestling between the factors of security versus cruelty.  
His mind was at war with his body as he grappled with his instincts, those animalistic desires within him that pleaded for an alpha to claim what was his. These bellicose instincts faced his resolve as a man, the choices that made him who he decided he was. Defined his character.  
He wouldn't touch Russo mid-heat, not just because he respected the other man too much, but because that was who Frank Kastle was. Another gorgeous moan came again, driving him to the piece of wood he had propped against the sequestered room entrance. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the deliriously appealing scent of Billy's heat. He had forced suppressants down the other man's throat but, unsurprisingly, he had been too late.

  
It wasn't a shock per say, just a fleeting hope. There was a reason omegas took pills daily, once the Heat started, there was seldom a way to stop it. Frank turned his back to the door, forcing himself to walk to the floor entrance. Staying here, hearing the moans, the pleas Billy would whine, he wasn't sure he could resist.  
  
He sat on the cement steps, fingers absently picking at the peeling paint. The soft rock music he had flicked on drowning out the sirens call that beckoned him.  
  
Now he waited.

 

  
  
  
_Three Days Later_  
  
Billy screamed as he writhed against the bed, fingers digging into the soaked sheets, agony. The rickety metal bed frame protested as he came again, his body trembling with need and exhaustion. Everything was wet, with either sweat or his other bodily fluids, and yet the release he craved was nonexistent. He wanted a alpha's cock to stuff him. No, needed it. But instead he was left alone with his mere fingers to sate what nature had meant to be Frank.  
  
Frank. God, Frank. He had begged and begged yet the stubborn asshole wouldn't budge, refusing to even enter the room with the exception of bringing water and uneaten food. _Please Frank, just fuck me, please. I'll do anything._

  
_Anything._  
  
It occurred to him that this train of thought must have meant the end was coming. He was simply too lucid for anything else.  
  
"Frank," he yelled, his voice hoarse. He loathed how weak he sounded. The soft bass of some rock song echoed through the door, he had been playing the shitty music for years it seemed. He waited, anger bubbling inside him that not only was Frank inconsiderate enough not to fuck him, but that he also was ignoring him.

  
"Frank," he snarled, "I'm done with my Heat and I need to clean up."

  
There, that should get him in here. He wasn't completely done with his heat but fuck him.  
  
Billy waited, acutely aware of his abs and chest slick with sweat and come. He was entirely exposed, the covers laying in heaps beside the bed.

  
Finally, the door grunted open. Billy angled his head so he could see him. Frank leaned against the scrappy wall, powerful arms crossed against his black T-Shirt.  
He dramatically inhaled, dark brown eyes burnishing gold.  
  
"You don't smell like you're done with your Heat, Russo."  
  
It was said in that same laid-back drawl that Frank used to lay down the law. He looked unimpressed and Russo hated that. He hated that he was the one on the edge of his sanity, that it was his body aching in exhaustion and oh-so-ready for Frank's cock.  
He hated that he wanted nothing more in world then for Frank to fuck him.  
"I don't want to fuck your ugly face anymore, hm? How about that? In fact," Russo tried to straighten his shoulders, as if he had any dignity left. "I remembered that I can do better."  
He had hoped for a visible reaction, but he got nothing. Expressionless dark eyes, followed by a slightly raised eyebrow.  
  
"You know what, Billy? I think you need a little more time in here."  
  
Frank left and Billy cursed himself.  
  
Maybe another alpha would have taken advantage, taken the pleas and mercies fro m the omega's swollen lips as consent but not him.  Of course, Frank would still stick to his wretched Code.  
Russo gave up and let his head drop back onto the pillow.  
  
The subtle scent of his Frank lingered. Gunmetal, cedar, and the spicy hint of cinnamon.    
alpha lingered and he could feel sweat dripping down his back, reigniting the Heat within him.  
  
He allowed his hand to drift to his swollen cock, wincing as he put pressure around the sensitive skin. For the millionth time, he wished it was Frank sliding his hand up and down his length. Telling him what he wanted, when he could come, what a good little omega he was.  
  
He couldn't help the panting as his hand increased in pace, squeezing slightly. His eyes fluttered shut as he pictured Frank on top of him, pinning him to the bed with his weight. Strong as steel muscles bruising his hypersensitive skin.  
"C'mon Russo," he could almost hear Frank saying. Of course he obeyed, spurting milky white come over his abs and thighs.

  
  
His high abruptly vanished, replaced with acute embarrassment. 


End file.
